


snakebites

by tenderybitch (FictitiousFanatisch)



Category: NCT (Band), WayV (Band)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Banter, Barebacking, Biting, Blow Jobs, Bruises, Established Relationship, Face-Fucking, Idols, Kissing, Love Bites, M/M, Making Out, Neck Kissing, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, Throwback, Top Yuta, ass eating lol, bottom sicheng, nct 127 classic, scorpio tings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-30
Updated: 2020-04-30
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:08:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23922853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FictitiousFanatisch/pseuds/tenderybitch
Summary: Yuta’s addicted to the embarrassed look on Sicheng's face when the hem of his shirt raises during dance practice and someone notices the finger shaped bruises on his hips, or when the makeup noonas complain about the hickeys on his neck...
Relationships: Dong Si Cheng | WinWin/Nakamoto Yuta
Comments: 8
Kudos: 199





	snakebites

**Author's Note:**

> this is set in the good ole days...
> 
> *cries*

Yuta kisses Sicheng like it’s the last time, in the hallway first thing in the morning, in the stairwell after dance practice, under the covers when Sicheng sneaks into his bed after Taeil-hyung has fallen asleep. He hopes to convey the intense love he feels for the boy through his sweet words and actions, but Yuta knows nothing can ever say more about how he feels than moments like this. 

He twists his fingers in the material of Sicheng’s t-shirt, tugging the boy’s body tight against his own. He tilts his head to the side just a tad, the adjusted angle making it easy for him to his lick past the seam of Sicheng’s lips. 

And Sicheng kisses Yuta like he’s not sure how to communicate his feelings, like he knows what he feels but he can’t seem to organize them into a unified idea. He presses into Yuta eagerly, with hot, heavy breaths and shaky hands on either side of his face. He draws Yuta’s tongue into his mouth, arching up into the firm, seemingly endless stretch of his body. The older slides his tongue against his and Sicheng shivers, melting against him.

He looks so good like this, Yuta thinks, a combination of boyish charm and girlish features; his thin bangs cascading into his sweet, brown eyes, the way his eyelashes fall against his cheekbones, and the soft rouge of his swollen lips. He’s pretty and sexy in a unique way that sends Yuta’s heartbeat into overdrive. He keeps stealing glances at him as they kiss, going cross-eyed, but it’s totally worth it.

“What are you looking at?” the younger murmurs against his bottom lip. 

“You, dummy. You look so good,” Yuta hums, honest. He jumps at any opportunity to compliment his boyfriend, even though he hates it. 

Sicheng rolls his eyes. He’s in a worn out t-shirt and joggers - he never puts any effort into his appearance and even less on their days off. But Yuta can’t help the flattery; Sicheng looks good all the time. 

The younger hooks his finger in Yuta’s silver cross necklace, tugging gently until he dips down and fits their mouths together again and  _ oh _ \- Sicheng kisses hard now, like he’s either trying to devour or be devoured. His enthusiasm takes Yuta off guard, but he loves it. The younger does not seem interested in playing coy tonight and it’s a pleasant deviation from his usual disposition. Yuta always enjoys him, but especially like this- restless and overeager, like a puppy. 

Sicheng slips his hand into Yuta’s long hair, just feeling it’s rough texture between the pads of his fingers. Yuta loses himself in the feeling, fisting the fabric of Sicheng’s shirt and dragging his body tighter against his own because he just needs him closer _ , closer _ . 

The younger tightens his grip against his much softer roots, using it to angle Yuta’s head up so he can press his tongue behind his teeth. And Yuta moans into his mouth, the warmth of Sicheng’s body flush against him, his soft lips and bruising kisses and the slick feeling of his tongue moving against his already filling his mind with X-rated thoughts. 

Yuta bites his bottom lip gently, a warning for him to  _ slow down. _ The younger leans away, brow furrowed in confusion. He smiles down at Sicheng, kissing the corner of his mouth, brushing the dark hair out of his eyes. 

“Ow,” Sicheng pouts, swiping the tip of his tongue over his swollen lip. 

Yuta huffs, a soft laugh climbing up the back of his throat. Sicheng’s eyes narrow.

“What?” he wonders, smiling, although he doesn’t know what‘s funny. 

Yuta uses one hand to grip his chin, dragging him towards him and pressing another tight kiss to his mouth. He draws back, eyes shining mischievously. 

“You like it,” he challenges, running the tips of his fingers along the strip of exposed skin between the waistband of Sicheng’s pants and the hem of his shirt, “You _love_ _it_ , actually,”

Sicheng just watches him, looking like he wants to deny it. It is in fact Yuta that has the oral fixation. Kissing easily leads to biting whenever he is involved. But Yuta knows Sicheng doesn’t hate it. The only protest he ever makes is about the marks, since it’s difficult to get Yuta to stop once he’s started. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Sicheng decides, his eyes hard, breath warm against Yuta’s top lip.

“Mm,” Yuta hums. He drags one finger along the corner of his jaw, using it to tilt his head up. “Then maybe I need to refresh your memory,”

The older kisses him once before departing, holding his gaze as he descends. He sneaks his hands under the hem of Sicheng’s shirt, feeling the warm, smooth skin of his belly. 

Yuta pushes it up, clearing a space to drag his lips over his stomach, then his ribs. He can feel the younger’s torso expanding and contracting beneath him as he breathes, his muscles clenching, heart pounding faster when Yuta closes his lips around his nipple. 

“ _ Hyung _ ,” Sicheng arches, a tremor running through his entire body. Yuta hums, flicks his tongue out against the sensitive nub until it hardens. He can’t stop himself from biting down on it gently. 

The younger man watches him now, shaky fingers threading in Yuta’s long hair as he sucks a line of kisses toward his other nipple. He takes a moment to appreciate it, a sweet, dusky brown, already hard in anticipation. He rubs the pad of his index finger against the first one when he takes the second between his teeth, bearing down on it a little before pulling off and soothing it with his tongue. He alternates between kissing, licking and biting them, encouraged by the soft sounds Sicheng is making under him. 

Yuta travels back down the length of his body and this time he doesn’t hesitate to sink his teeth into the younger man. He digs his nails into Sicheng’s soft sides as he drags rough, biting kisses down his torso. 

He’s always had this unexplainable urge to mark Sicheng up, to leave red or even purplish stains on his otherwise blameless skin. Yuta doesn’t know where it came from or how it started. He just knows how hot it is when everyone’s favorite, sweet, shy boy, Sicheng walks around with _his_ marks on his body. Yuta’s addicted to the embarrassed look on his face when the hem of his shirt raises during dance practice and someone notices the finger shaped bruises on his hips, or when the makeup noonas complain about the hickeys on his neck. The boy is already so shy and the extra attention makes him want to crawl into a dark corner. It’s such a turn on, but it also makes Yuta feel so proud. Even though he could get in trouble, he doesn’t tell Yuta to stop and his heart could burst with the love he has for Sicheng. It’s only a matter of time. 

“Fuck, Baby, look at you. You look so good,” Yuta breathes, in awe of how the younger lays with his t-shirt hiked up under his arms, blush staining his cheeks, and his chest - littered with red teeth marks, his nipples dark and swollen. He’s breathing hard and so turned on — Yuta can tell by the way he looks at him, his eyes glassy and pleading, and of course his cock, straining hard against his sweats. 

“You said that already, hyung,” he huffs, his speech thick with arousal.

“Hush. You know I can’t help it,” Yuta rests one hand on Sicheng’s thigh. He sucks softly at Sicheng’s hipbone as the other cups him through his pants. He just keeps it there for a moment, teasing. When he looks up he can see the strain on Sicheng’s face; he knows he wants to buck up against his hand.

“Take your shirt off. Then flip over,” the older says, gentle. Sicheng stares at him. 

“Please?” Yuta adds, faking a smile. The younger smirks, but obeys, tugging his shirt over his head and throwing it onto the floor. 

Yuta scoots back on his heels as Sicheng turns over onto his stomach. stretching his endless limbs out on the mattress. The elder moves closer, nudging his knee between Sicheng’s legs and resting his hands on Sicheng’s small waist. He’s tense, muscles taut beneath his skin, neck stiff between his shoulders. Yuta tuts, trails his fingertips up and down his sides, over his shoulders, down the slope of his back, until he can sense the younger relaxing, his head sinking into Yuta’s pillow. 

He wets his lips once before opening them against the nape of Sicheng’s neck. He takes his time, cups the curve of his spine as he kisses between his shoulders blades, then lower. It doesn’t take Yuta long to introduce his teeth; Sicheng’s body is warm and soft, his innocent flesh dimpling beneath his mouth like dough and he can’t help but wonder if he tastes like it, too. He teeths down the delicate arch of Sicheng’s vertebrae, reveling in the way the younger shudders and moans. 

He alternates between rough and greedy and sweet, slow kisses, trading his teeth for tongue when, after a particularly hard bite on his lower back, Sicheng arches underneath him. It’s a feeble attempt to escape his brutal canines, but Yuta lets up, soothing the red blotches with the flat of his tongue. Sicheng trembles.

Yuta hooks his fingers under the waist of his pants and underwear and pulls them both down in one swift motion. He keeps one hand on the small of his back as he ghosts his lips over the swell of his ass. Sicheng is silent now and eerily still–so still Yuta can’t tell if he’s breathing. He knows it’s because he’s getting closer and closer to where the younger wants him. He can’t help the smirk that rises on his face as he pulls away. 

Sicheng visibly deflates, a soft whine building in his throat. 

“Now, now,” Yuta shuffles down the mattress, dragging Sicheng’s bottoms off his ankles and discarding them on the floor. He curls his hand around Sicheng’s thigh, just above his knee while the other rests on his hip. He uses the leverage to pull him back onto his knees. Sicheng gets the memo and props himself up onto his elbows, his long, tanned back dipping beautifully like a canyon. 

Yuta’s nails press hard into his flesh as he trails slow kisses up the back of Sicheng’s opposite thigh now. Sicheng moans gently as Yuta’s teeth glide up to the other cheek, pressing in deep. 

“Hyung, please,” he begs again, voice so broken Yuta almost doesn’t hear him. Sicheng  _ hates _ to be teased. He’s a little pillow princess and he’s not used to Yuta making him wait. He’s good, though, the best—patiently awaiting whatever the older decides to give him. 

“I got you, I swear,” Yuta hums, hands roving over the boy’s back, his ass, his thighs. He knows he’s getting carried away. It’s been so long since Sicheng has been this willing. 

By now, his beautiful body is painted in deep, dark, mouth shaped bruises. He looks so good, and tastes even better — Yuta thinks he could worship the slope of his back, bite on his backside and kiss his pale thighs for hours. But Sicheng wants more, and only  a fool would deny him.

Yuta kneels between his legs then, fits his hands on his hips and pulls Sicheng against him. He kneads his fingers into the soft meat of his ass, stopping only to spread his cheeks with his fingers. He parts his lips, allowing his warm breath to fan out against his hole. It flutters innocently, pink and perfect and the sight alone makes Yuta’s mouth water.

He tries to imagine how his boyfriend must feel right now, his senses heightened, muscles tensed, every nerve in his body tuned in on Yuta’s careful ministrations, yet his mind unable to anticipate what is to come. 

He digs his fingernails into Sicheng’s ass as he dips down, licking a long, fat line from his taint to his tailbone. 

Sicheng bends like a bowstring, overwhelmed. 

“My good boy,” Yuta murmurs against him. He kisses over his rim, suckling it softly. 

He holds Sicheng so tight he thinks (hopes) he’ll leave bruises, pulling his ass back onto his face. Yuta fits his nose in the cleft and presses his tongue to his fluttering hole, just tracing its wrinkled circumference. He moves back a fraction, blowing cool air over the wetness.

The boy gasps above him, his fingers curling in the sheets. Yuta would kill to see his expression right now. He can almost picture it - his pretty mouth agape, eyes screwed shut, his cheeks flushed dark with feverish heat.

Yuta cups his ass with both hands, uses his thumbs to keep his cheeks parted as he covers his rim with his mouth. He kneads his hands into Sicheng’s warm flesh as he rolls his tongue over his puckered entrance, just enjoying how he feels, how he  _ tastes _ . 

And Sicheng clenches, unsure whether he wants to keep the older out or draw him in. 

Yuta nips at his rim with his teeth, watching proudly as it blooms a beautiful burgundy. Sicheng whimpers. He’s overwhelmed, dropping his head so it hangs between his shoulders. 

“Fuck, I love you so much, baby. I wish I could eat your pretty little ass every day for the rest of my fucking life,” Yuta rushes, voice muffled in Sicheng’s rim and sending beautiful vibrations up his spine. 

He presses the tip of tongue against Sicheng’s opening until it gives away. Then he’s sinking his tongue into the younger’s willing body, as deep as he can go before flicking out. The younger shakes as he exhales, back caving. 

“Yuta-hyung _ , please.  _ I c-can’t–,” Sicheng babbles, sounding so out of it. His accent is so thick, Yuta can barely understand him through the fog of pleasure. It’s music to his ears. It makes Yuta want to spread him wider, delve his tongue even deeper. 

Doing this ignites something animalistic in him. It gets Yuta so  _ hot _ to know Sicheng likes this, that deep down this difficult boy just wants someone to bend him over, mark him up and eat him out, like a bitch. The thought has pure, unadulterated  _ want _ boiling low in his gut and one hand curving over his own erection, stiff and straining in his boxers. 

He sucks on Sicheng’s rim a little before worming his tongue back inside. Yuta licks him out slowly, methodically, soon losing himself in the way he responds– how Sicheng opens and closes around him, his smooth walls constricting until he finally relaxes and allows him inside. 

He eats Sicheng out until his jaw aches, until there’s spit sliding down his chin and he’s lightheaded because it’s so hard to breathe; until Sicheng is trembling and whining and collapsing, face first into the mattress, turning his hot cheek against the relatively cool bed sheet for relief. 

With eyes closed and fists clenched, he rocks back onto Yuta’s tongue, greedy for more. And Yuta doesn’t even think to stop him. He knows how long Sicheng has been waiting for this. He too is running low on patience. 

“I want to fuck you so bad,” Yuta blurts as soon as he comes up for air, a thin string of saliva breaking between his bottom lip and Sicheng’s innocent pucker. 

“Can I?” he begs, desperate, squeezing himself through his boxers. Although Yuta usually fills the receiving role, he thinks Sicheng might let him top tonight. It’s worth a shot, anyway. 

It takes a moment for the younger to realize he’s talking to him. 

“Okay. Yeah, yes—please,” he weakly agrees. 

_ Please _ ? Yuta must be the luckiest man alive. He sits up, working his fingers over the stretch of Sicheng’s back, over his hips, down his thighs. 

“You good?” he wonders as he reaches for the lube, his mind already whirring with images of what he’s about to do. He quickly squeezes some out onto his fingers, messily coating Sicheng’s hole with it. The younger jolts at the coldness. 

“Yeah, I’m good,” he mumbles. 

“I’m so hard for you, Baby, you have no idea,” Yuta says, his voice hurried. Without another thought, he presses the tip of his index finger past the tight ring of muscle. The younger releases the long breath he was holding, eyes folding shut.

He fucks that finger in a few times before quickly inserting a second. He works him open, scissoring his fingers, making sure he’s loose enough to take a third. 

When all three fingers are lodged deep inside Sicheng, Yuta can’t help but trace his thumb around his swollen rim, rub the pads of his fingers against his walls, just feeling his body’s warmth, its grip. He can’t wait to feel that same tight grip around his cock. He’s aching for it. It’s been so long.

He bites Sicheng’s thigh, curling his fingers upward, stroking over that sensitive little bump. 

“ _ When _ ,” Sicheng moans, his thighs shaking. Something hot and heavy comes over Yuta in that moment, some strong, borderline animalistic desire to  _ take _ and  _ own _ filling his resolve. 

He drags his fingers out carefully and crawls up the bed. He grips Sicheng by his hair, craning his head toward him. His other hand grips his jaw roughly as their lips connect. It’s dirty and wet with too much tongue and the accidental collision of teeth, but at this point Yuta could care less about formalities. He can still taste his boyfriend’s hot, heady flavor, so he knows Sicheng can too and the thought alone makes his head spin as the remaining blood in his body rushes between his legs. 

Yuta pulls away and Sicheng’s head drops back against the pillow. With absolutely no finesse, the older grabs the waist of his boxers and shoves them down his thighs. He feels along the mattress until his hand finds the lube once more, squirting way too much onto his fingers. He rests his head between Sicheng’s shoulders as he wraps that hand around his length, giving himself a few slick strokes to full hardness. 

“Fuck, you look  _ so _ good, Sicheng. Your body is perfect,” Yuta moans, his index finger and thumb circling the head before coming back to the base. Sicheng cranes his neck to see over his shoulder, rolling his eyes so hard Yuta fears they’ll get stuck in his skull. 

“…Say that one more time and I’m leaving. And finding a new boyfriend,” he threatens. 

“Pfft. I dare you. You won’t find  _ anyone _ like me,”

“…That’s the point,” the younger scoffs.

“Ya– only because no one else is going to put up with your whining. Especially in bed.  _ Sheesh _ ,”

“You talk too much. Just- put it in me already,” Sicheng complains, only proving Yuta’s point. The elder shakes his head in disbelief.

Sicheng faces forward again, resolutely silent when Yuta grips his hip with one hand and lines himself up with the other. He leans forward, pressing the smooth, blunt tip against his puckered entrance until it slips inside. Sicheng’s back tenses when he feels it and Yuta squeezes his hip in support. It takes some work— they haven’t done this in months and Sicheng is so fucking tight. Yuta can’t help but stare, mesmerized as the younger caves around him. 

It isn’t until his entire length is hidden in Sicheng’s body, his angular hips pressed against the younger’s soft thighs, that Yuta takes a moment to really appreciate how it feels. Yuta thinks he would gladly bottom a hundred times if it kept the boy tight like a vice. Sicheng is an inferno, the heat of his body engulfing Yuta, setting his bones on fire. The desire to fuck forward is strong, but he takes a deep breath and forces himself to wait. 

When Sicheng finally pushes back against him, he takes that as his signal to move. Without a thought, Yuta pulls almost all the way out before railing back in. The force of it sends Sicheng forward with a sharp gasp. 

“Good?” he checks, running his palm over Sicheng’s back. 

“…Yeah,” he sighs out, “Really good,”

He curls one hand over the younger’s neck, the other cupping the base of his spine as he rolls his hips forward once, then twice, helping Sicheng adjust to the feeling. But(t) fuck– Yuta is losing his mind. He feels numb with the pleasure already, the sensation of his hard length dragging along Sicheng’s smooth, wet walls, and how he clenches tight around him every so often, still adjusting to the intrusion. It feels so fucking good, desperate heat already blooming in his belly. 

Yuta manages to establish a rhythm, steady at first, holding onto Sicheng and focusing every nerve in his body on the younger. He would love for his mind to just leave his body right now, to just lose himself to the pull of want that gets stronger and stronger each time he drives forward. It dances on the tips of his fingers and crawls up his spine and he wants to chase and chase that feeling until it’s flooding his senses with release. 

But he finds it difficult to commit to that slow build when Sicheng starts writhing, shameless, mouth parted, dark brown hair fanning across his forehead, the ends curling upwards with the sweat of his concentration as he works himself back onto Yuta’s cock, matching the speed of his thrusts. 

_ He looks so fucking good _ , he can’t help but think for the umpteenth time. Sicheng is like a wet dream - the deep tones in his throat reduced to soft whimpers each time Yuta splits him open, lips dark red and swollen from his kisses, his swan like neck bared in submission, his broad shoulders, and the perfect arch of his  _ back.  _ Pleasure simmers in Yuta’s gut as his eyes roam the expanse of it, littered in fresh bruises and bite marks he knows are going to stain his skin for at least a week. 

They’re both much too keyed up after all that grueling foreplay and Yuta soon picks up the pace. His hand traces up Sicheng’s spine until it rests on the nape of his neck, pressing the younger down into the mattress. His other hand stays on Sicheng’s ass, his thumb keeping him spread open as he quickens his thrusts. He can’t help but watch hungrily as his cock slips in and out of the younger, can’t help but swell with pride at how well he’s taking him. 

“Fuck, you feel good, baby. You’re doing so good for me,” Yuta praises, thumbing over the short hairs at the back of his head. 

His thrusts go deeper and  _ longer _ , almost demanding from the man underneath him. He leans over Sicheng, blunt nails digging into his hips, teeth sinking into his shoulder as his hips roll against his ass. 

Sicheng doesn’t let him do this often; it’s evident by the way he moans and his body shakes. He’s not used to this feeling: Yuta hot and hard and rubbing along his insides. It makes Yuta’s cock swell and throb where it's nestled deep, the knowledge that he can make Sicheng numb with pleasure.

Yuta fucks and fucks until all that fills his mind is the steady rock of the bed in its frame, the intermittent slap of his hips against Sicheng’s ass, and the pleasure expanding quickly below his navel. He can’t ignore it, can no longer keep the feeling at bay. Yuta concentrates on how Sicheng’s tight little body feels around him, swallowing him whole and hugging all the right places. And after a few more strokes it’s enough to make the latent heat between his hips flare and flourish into an orgasm. 

He pulls out completely, a tight fist closing around his length. Still slicked with lube, the glide is amazing and he lays one hand on Sicheng’s hip while the other quickly jerks himself off. He was already close and just tracing the innocent line of Sicheng’s back, now brutalized by his mouth, is enough to make the heat build and build in his belly. His climax takes over almost violently, drowning his senses in blinding white, hot static. Yuta comes so hard, all the oxygen leaves his body. He gasps as he paints Sicheng’s beautiful back in warm, wet stripes. 

He doesn’t take a moment to revel in it or catch his breath. Without a care as to the mess it’s going to make on his sheets, Yuta grips Sicheng’s arm and rolls him onto his back. 

He’s glowing, practically radiating need under his skin, on his face. The love Yuta has for Sicheng and the urgency to take care of him fills his chest as he crawls over him. Yuta holds his gaze, offering a small smile before parting his lips and drawing his cock into his mouth. 

Sicheng arches, shaky hands coming up and tangling in the older’s hair. Yuta sinks on his length, eyes watering as the swollen head nudges the back of his throat. He rubs his tongue back and forth along the underside, pulling off to flick it against the sensitive tip until a thick bubble of precome spills out. He licks his lips, savoring the intense flavor before spreading it down his shaft. Sicheng tastes so good, feels so good filling up his mouth. The younger must agree because he twists his fingers in Yuta’s hair, holding him steady as he rocks up into the warmth. 

Yuta hollows out his cheeks, creating a tight space for Sicheng to use. He’s focused, the muscles on his stomach flexing as he fucks his mouth. It’s not much longer before his movements become sloppy and uncoordinated, his eyes pinching shut and his head tilting back as his orgasm spreads through his body. Sicheng grips Yuta’s hair so hard his scalp burns as he spills hot and thick on his tongue, dragging his cock through his lips as he rides the euphoric high. Yuta drinks his cum without complaint, rubbing his thumb in slow circles against Sicheng’s hip. 

Sicheng winces, overstimulated and Yuta pulls off. He sucks in a shaky breath, the muscles in his thighs twitching with the aftershocks. He collapses on the mattress, totally depleted of energy. 

Yuta drags his lips lazily over his hip. He traces his index finger over a particularly large bite mark next to Sicheng’s belly button, pressing down on it until the younger squirms. 

“Hyung,” Sicheng warns, although it’s less of a warning and more of a whine. And whines - Yuta is much less inclined to listen to. 

He rests his hand on the side of Yuta’s face, those eyes saying more than his mouth ever could. The elder smirks and turns his head, pressing a lingering kiss to the center of his palm. 

Yuta sighs, but concedes. He pulls his hand away and collapses on top of Sicheng, resting his cheek against his abdomen. He only gets to cuddle him for a minute or two before Sicheng is shifting under him. 

“Don’t get too comfortable,” he says, biteless.

“I’m not,” Yuta promises, although his eyes are already slipping shut. 

“I don’t know. You look pretty comfortable to me,”

“Mhm,” he hums. “I am,”

Sicheng huffs, “Seriously. Don't go to sleep,” 

“Do I look like I’m sleeping to you?” Yuta snaps, rolling his eyes.

“Not yet. But knowing you it’s only a matter of time… You made a mess and I need to go clean off,”

Yuta sighs, “I know.” He definitely made a mess of the younger, and in more ways than one. 

“Get  _ off _ ,” Sicheng lifts his leg, nudging the older. 

Yuta frowns, but does as he’s told. He’s used to getting the cold shoulder after sex. He rolls over onto his stomach, narrowly avoiding the fresh cum stains on his bedsheet. 

Sicheng slips off the bed, feeling around the floor until he finds his pants. Yuta can’t help but stare as he pulls them up his long legs, snapping the waistband against his thin hips. He slips out of the room for a few minutes, presumably to the bathroom to wipe the remnants of Yuta from his skin. 

Yuta is too lazy to get up, so he strips the sheet off of his mattress, balls it up and pushes it over the edge so it lands in a heap on the floor. The dorm is oddly chilly tonight, so he reaches over the bed, pulls his own pants off the floor and tugs them back on. He checks his phone, then places it back on the nightstand, dragging the duvet up over his head and waiting patiently for his boy to return.

Sicheng comes back quietly. He climbs onto the mattress, somehow sneaking his way under the duvet and lying beside Yuta. The older reaches out for him but he pulls away, mumbling something about it being hot. 

“C’mon. I’m literally freezing,” Yuta counters, hooking his arm around the younger’s waist, dragging him back into his embrace. 

“That sounds like a  _ you _ problem. It’s not  _ my _ fault you’re… reptilian,” Sicheng supplies, still putting up a fight. 

“Oh that’s your theory?” the elder laughs. 

“Of course it is. You’re cold-blooded, like- like a snake. And you bite like one too. How am I supposed to cover these hickies?” 

“A  _ snake _ ?” Yuta is unsure whether to be offended or proud of the title, “Well, if I’m the snake then you’re my little mouse,” 

Sicheng finally stills, allowing Yuta’s arms to encircle his waist.

“Wait- why am  _ I _ the prey in this scenario? I don’t want to get eaten,” 

“Hmm,” Yuta hums, oozing faux sincerity. He cups Sicheng’s face, turning his head toward him. The younger frowns.

“That sounds fake considering I just ate you ten minutes ago...” He presses his thumb against Sicheng’s jaw, holding him still as he drags his tongue over his cheek. 

He gasps, a dark blush filling his cheeks. He pushes Yuta away again. 

“You’re disgusting,” he whines, scrubbing at his face. Yuta just laughs.

“True. But you love it,” 

He doesn’t reply, and his silence is confirmation enough.

**Author's Note:**

> [twt](https://twitter.com/tenderybitch)


End file.
